Salazar

My dreams became clearer and more varied the more I delved into my prophetic abilities. I never quite understood why my talents as a seer hadn't surfaced until recently, but I was glad for them. They provided invaluable insight into Toms plans: his targets, his activities, his recruits. Even if every time I saw his face was agony.

I dreamt that a woman was cowering in her home. Tom had his wand at her throat while she sobbed and choked and drew strangled breaths. Her eyes were wide with fear behind thick, bejewelled glasses. She backed away from him, knocking over chairs and lamps and crystal balls. A pack of old tarot cards fell and spilled across the floor, the bony illustration of the Grim Reaper smiling mockingly up at her.

"You are a seer, aren't you?" Tom said quietly, menacingly. "Tell me my future." He tilted his head, like a curious cat playing with a new toy. "Will the attack on London be a success?"

"I- I cannot- that is—" the woman sobbed incoherently, backed up into a corner. She clawed desperately at the wall behind her, her nails scraping the paintwork. "I need time, and my equipment- I can't just- the inner eye doesn't just- but I can do it, but—"

Tom's face darkened in disgust. "Pathetic," he said, and killed her.

"Trelawney," I said brusquely as I breezed into Dumbledore's office. "He's going after Sybil Trelawney next."

Albus didn't even bother looking up, instead nonchalantly turning the page of his magazine. "You know this how?" he asked noncommittally.

I sat down across from him. "Because I'm immensely clever and brilliant and you trust my judgment completely?" I tried.

He raised an eyebrow, flicking over another page. "Ah," he said unconcernedly. "A bad dream then, I take it?"

"I'm being serious, Albus," I said, leaning forwards on the desk. "She's the next target."

He finally deigned to look up, his piercing blue eyes narrowed somewhat. "What do you want me to do about it?" he signed, putting down his magazine. "She's already under Order protection, alongside every other known seer."

"Move her to Hogwarts," I said. He blinked, surprised. "Come on Albus. You need a Divination professor, she needs protection. It makes sense."

"Are you actually worried about her life, or what information she could give Voldemort?" Dumbledore asked sharply, frowning.

I leaned back in my chair, folding my arms. "That's not fair, Albus."

He shrugged. "I don't know why you're panicking all of a sudden. She's never made an accurate prediction of any consequence. It's unlikely that she could give him a valuable insight into the future."

"I just have a feeling," I protested. "Look, I know you're cynical of seers, but you have to trust me. I think that Trelawney might be important."

He was silent for a moment. "Fine," he assented at last. "I'll let her have an interview for the post of Divination professor."

"Good," I said, satisfied.

The job interview took place in a room above the Hog's Head Inn. Aberforth was guarding the entrance, whilst other Order members patrolled outside or mingled with the customers at the bar. Albus conducted the interview- a tedious formality- with a nervous Trelawney, whilst I stood, invisible and unheard, in the corner to monitor the proceedings. It was a wet and stormy night, and there was something ominous about the creaking wood and rattling windows, something portentous. The weather seemed to be an omen, although of what, I couldn't be sure.

I could tell that the interview was taxing for Albus. It was clear that he thought Trelawney was a fraud, although he dealt with her with patience. I observed her all the while for any signs of her hidden ability, for any indications of her possessing some kind of foreknowledge. This, I would later learn, was a grave mistake, for it took my attention away from checking for intruders or eavesdroppers.

Albus was just about to conclude the meeting when it happened. Trelawney stiffened, almost imperceptibly, and her eyes took on a milky, glazed quality. Her hands curled into fists and she made a strangled noise, as if something was forcing its way up her throat. I started forwards, my first thought being that someone had attacked her with some kind of hex, but she immediately began to speak in a voice that was not of this world. It was ancient and powerful and terrifying.

"The one with the power to vanquish the Dark Lord approaches... born to those who have thrice defied him, born as the seventh month dies... and the Dark Lord will mark him as his equal, but he will have power the Dark Lord knows not... and either must die at the hand of the other for neither can live while the other survives."

Then she shuddered, and coughed, and blinked, and it was all over. She stared, slightly bemused, at Dumbledore's white face, but he recovered quickly, thanking her for her time and shaking her hand. Soon, she was out the door and on her way.

I materialised, almost unconsciously, from where I had stood, invisible. The words of her prophecy repeated themselves like a mantra in my head in time with the thunder outside. They reminded me horribly of the prophecy I had received that night in the cave. I shuddered, and the two prophecies became one, twisting together into a distorted chant that echoed through my thoughts.

He will bind your lives together so that one's death shall spell certain doom for the other. Neither can live while the other survives. You shall create your own greatest foe. Either must die at the hand of the other.

"What does it mean?" Albus whispered, as shocked as me. When I didn't reply, he turned to look at me, his face deathly pale. "Is it about you?"

"Alice Longbottom and Lily Potter are both pregnant," I said quietly after a while, my hands clenching and unclenching. "When are their children due?"

Dumbledore was silent for a moment. "End of July," he said at last, his voice low.

I collapsed into one of the chairs wearily. "All these prophecies," I began softly, sorting through the sea of clues and hints in my head. "First that seer in Paris. Then my visions. Then the priestess in the cave. Now Trelawney." I looked up at Dumbledore. "Something big is coming. A war that has been written in the stars for generations." Suddenly, on impulse, I stood up and marched towards the door, wrenching it open, glancing back at Albus. "We must be ready for when it comes."

"Any problems?" I asked Aberforth as I prepared to leave the Hog's Head.

"We did have an issue with an eavesdropper," he said gruffly, "but that's all sorted now. We soon threw him out."

I stared at him in horror. There was no telling what an eavesdropper could have heard- and be passing on to Tom that very second. What if he told Tom what the prophecy had said?

As I disapparated, I had the awful feeling that I'd managed to prevent my dream and Trelawney's death- but caused something even worse instead.

Neville Longbottom was born on the 30th July. I was at St. Mungo's, visiting him and his parents on the 31st when I received the news that Lily too, had given birth. After cooing at the little baby and congratulating his parents, I made my excuses and wandered just down the ward to where the Potters were. They were surprised, but grateful, to see me. James held in his arms a tiny child, and I felt a sudden ache in my chest. Here was the paternal love that I had failed to ever give- or receive.

The Potters let me hold their baby. I did so with great trepidation, but felt it would be rude to refuse, so I cradled him and rocked him in my arms.

"What's his name?" I asked, absorbed by his wonderfully green eyes. Green, like his mother's… and my own.

"Harry," Lily said, smiling wearily with parental affection.

I nearly dropped the baby.

They must've sensed something was off. Perhaps the blood had drained from my face, or I looked nauseous. "You don't like it?" Lily asked, concerned.

I forced a smile. "No, I- I love it. I just- I knew someone called Harry, once. It was a long time ago." I gazed back down at little Harry, something like guilt clawing at my heart. "Harry suits him very well," I amended. "He will make a very great sorcerer. And he couldn't ask for better parents."

They smiled and thanked me. I stayed a while, entranced by Harry, but I eventually gave him back, somewhat reluctantly, to his parents, and made my farewells before other visitors could arrive.

Later that week, I was back in Dumbledore's office.

"Have you visited the Longbottoms and the Potters yet?" he asked causally, his voice muffled by a sherbet lemon. I answered in the affirmative, which he took as indication to continue. "Which do you think is the child in the prophecy?"

"Harry," I answered instantly.

"You're sure?"

"Positive."

He sighed. "We ought to put them both under protection anyway. We might know which child it is, but if Voldemort did hear the prophecy, he still won't know who it refers to. He could go for either one."

"Tom will go for Harry," I said, shame creeping into my voice. "He knows that I used to have dreams about someone called Harry. He'll make the leap easily."

Albus looked at me with unbearable pity in his sharp blue eyes. "You are not responsible for this," he said quietly.

I smiled bitterly, shaking my head. "I am every bit responsible. I chose to become immortal. I chose to put that immortality above Tom. I was stupid, and arrogant. I thought I could cheat death. And now the consequences are catching up to me. It is me, and no one else, who is responsible for what Tom has become. What he's done. It's my fault that he now wants Harry dead. Every single death in this fight falls on my head. And the war that is to come? That, too, is my doing." I laughed, half-hysterically. "And now my punishment is being forced to fight my best friend- or watch him destroy this world."